THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE
terie of captains, represented by descend
ants of Joan's 5th-century companions.
Some of their garments bear the lilies of
France, others the arms of Compiegne.
Advancing to meet her, by torchlight,
came another procession of 300 choir boys,
two cardinals, parish clergy, and other dig
nitaries. With them, behind the banners,
came the municipal authorities.
Borne between hundreds of lighted ta
pers came relics in exquisite shrines; and
soon, with a burst of color, appeared the
craft guilds of five centuries ago, all
dressed in appropriate liveries and display
ing the banners of their patron saints.
Trumpets flourished and ioo.ooo spec
tators cheered as the two corteges mingled
to form a brilliant procession to the vast
square in front of the Chateau of Com
piegne. Speakers on the platform erected
here retold the touching story of the
Maid's capture in the meadows across the
river.
Next day, again to the ringing of bells.
the fete resumed. A solemn service at old
St. Jacques's, where Joan heard mass be
fore she rode forth to her last battle, was
attended by representatives of the Govern
ment and the diplomatic corps. A rep
etition of the procession and a tourney of
the knights before Charles VII and Joan
brought the celebration to a close.
JOAN'S 3,OOO-MILE ODYSSEY FOR LIBERTY
M. Courtellemont's natural-color photo
graphs bring the Maid and her times very
close to us. To M. Fournier-Sarloveze,
the mayor, the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC
MAGAZINE is indebted for his cooperation
with the photographer in obtaining these
superb results.
Compiegne's celebration was, however,
only one link in the chain of festivals com
memorating the Progress of Joan of Arc
from Vaucouleurs to Rouen. In cities and
hamlets, at bridges and crossroads associ
ated with her 3,ooo-mile Odyssey for the
liberty of France, tablets and statues were
unveiled and pageants staged in memory
of the young peasant girl who, while tend
ing her flocks, saw heavenly visions and
heard heavenly voices bidding her rescue
her Dauphin and country.
At Vaucouleurs her great adventure
began.
"Go; and let come what mav!"
said its commander resignedly. So friends
here equipped her with a page's suit and a
horse, and at last she rode off in great joy
to find the Dauphin.
Chinon, Tours, Orleans, Reims-how
vivid are their memories! At Chinon she
told the Dauphin of her heaven-sent mis
sion; at Tours she equipped for battle; at
Orleans she raised the siege; at Reims she
saw the Dauphin crowned as rightful King
of France.
It was after the coronation that the Eng
lish, alarmed, determined, with the aid of
the Burgundians, to recapture Compiegne,
bulwark of Paris. Joan had too few men
with whom to oppose them, but she did not
waver.
"By my staff !" she exclaimed.
"We are enough. I will go to my good
friends at Compiegne!"
So one May morning she rode in at sun
rise. Though she did not know it, her
short but ever-memorable period of activ
ity-just about a year and a half-was to
end with the setting of the sun.
After her men had rested from their
night's ride, Joan decided to make a sortie
against the Burgundians encamped di
rectly across the river from the town ; the
English camp was farther off. Chances of
breaking up the Burgundians seemed very
good; so, at 5 o'clock that same afternoon,
Joan, resplendent in white armor, galloped
across the bridge at the head of 500 men.
ly nightfall she was a prisoner; a year
later she died at the stake in Rouen.
But she had lifted France from the
bitter despair of a Ioo-year struggle with
foes within and without, and had given it a
courage and a unity which it has never lost.
And so Compiegne, like all of France,
remembers the Maid, tenderly, reverently.
There is a statue to her in the square be
fore the City Hall and a memorial altar in
St. Jacques's Church. The Water Gate
through which she hastened to her last
battle is gone, and of the old bridge only
a few arches remain; but the street down
which she rode hears her name, and a tab
let marks the site of the house where she
is believed to have lodged. Across the
river is another tablet marking the approx
imate spot where she was captured.
Compiegne, since that day, has stored up
memories of other battles and sieges and
bombardments; but it has none more vivid,
none more poignant, than that of a May
morning, 500 years ago, when a Maid in
shining armor came riding up from the
south.
(;08